


His Smile

by StormySilence



Category: Henry Stickmin Series (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Completing The Mission, Escaping the Complex, First work - Freeform, Fluff, Infiltrating the Airship, M/M, Selectively Mute Henry Stickmin, Slow Burn, Stickvin, Toppat Charles, Valiant Hero with a twist, Violence, omg I can tag, toppat clan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:08:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26667991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormySilence/pseuds/StormySilence
Summary: Henry Stickmin. He was a thief, a criminal, and one hell of a lucky man. Money had always been an issue for him; he never seemed to have enough. But when his latest heists catch the attention of the government and he’s given the option of helping in exchange of his crimes being pardoned, he finds himself wanting to leave the life of crime if it meant looking at what he considered the greatest treasure he ever found.A pity that with every treasure came a price…**THIS STORY IS ON HOLD UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE **
Relationships: Charles Calvin/Henry Stickmin
Comments: 42
Kudos: 243





	1. His Smile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi hi! :D
> 
> Uh, welcome! ^^;
> 
> This is my first work ever, so I apologize if it sucks. This story is inspired by a drawing made by @dokki.doodlez on Instagram of Charles if he was the leader of the Toppat Clan!
> 
> Uh, this first chapter starts off in Infiltrating the Airship by the way! And it’s sorta love at first sight. But, uh, yeah...
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

It was a fine day. The sky boasted a pale blue with the edges tipped with gold from the afternoon sun. Dancing in the warm air, clouds sprawled thin and curled playfully about. Though the unforgiving dry air of the desert was unpleasant, even in the early light of morning, the unbroken silence allowed a moment of clarity. If, that is, the silence truly was kept. 

Cutting through the stillness the loud hum of four massive engines roared overhead, gleaming a bold red as the massive bulk of an airship cruised along unhurried. The sunlight reached down through the large windows at the tall head of the cockpit, bringing a soft glow to blinking panels that were left untouched by those exchanging reports or sneaking gossip. 

In the center of the cockpit, draped lazily and contentedly across the cushioned seat in front of the steering wheel, Reginald Copperbottom grinned to himself. He had it all—a life full of money, followerers, and power. Nothing could top it off… Except maybe securing a more sure way to commit crimes and not have any suspicious government pant hotly on his heels. You see, Reginald was the leader of a criminal group of, might I say, rather fashionable people. Instead of laying low and blending in, the members that made up the group sported a range of hats, the majority of which were a tophat. They were a proud people who thought their hat as a part of them. And thus, because of their tradition to wear a hat, they were known as the Toppat Clan. And Reginald couldn’t think of anywhere else he’d prefer to be.

Yes. 

This was the life. 

There was the matter of having to think what was best for the clan—sacrifices, risks—but it was a small price of being the leader. He just wanted his clansmen to indulge in the luxuries of life, tasting the thrill of what the rich possessed while outrunning the justice of the law. Many of the Toppat members were local thieves or criminals. Money was always an issue, and the dream of affording grand things was a reality that was always fleeting. Sooner or later the consequences would find a way to catch up. 

But while some sought this easy way of achieving wealth, others simply found the feeling of being accepted into a bigger whole enough to stick around. They knew the risks, and knew even more their lives wouldn’t be spared, unless they had the determination to impress Reginald or his more serious second-in-command, Right Hand Man, to be recognized as an elite member. Then if things were getting hairy they had a chance that their lives were going to be preserved than sacrificed. 

But no important raids were planned for the day. No lives were going to be lost. No worry of getting caught crossed anyone’s minds. It was smooth sailing from here on out.

Oh, how wrong someone could be...

Henry Stickmin. How could an individual be so lucky yet so unfortunate at the same time? When it came down to thieving, the man seemed almost unable to get his gadgets to cooperate. But stick him in a cell or behind bars and he pulled off stunts no one else had the brain to think of. Or perhaps that was Stickmin’s secret: he operated on a whole different level of insanity and stupidity, even the universe seemed too taken aback to remember to apply the laws of nature. 

Either way, Henry’s latest plans had landed him in the West Mesa Penitentiary. Let’s just say there was a vault in the middle of nowhere involved, and the amount of injuries he sustained were almost enough to make one question how he was able to still stand on two feet. Who knew all he had to do was simply wear a convenient bag to get in? Life was so cliche nowadays. That, or the intelligence of the human race was declining.

Long story short, Henry had escaped his cell at the penitentiary thanks to the ignorance of a certain policeman and the convenience of a gadget hidden within a cake. He hadn’t paused on the thought as to who would deliver him a package, much less why anyone would help him, but he was out now! 

But a growing criminal record wouldn’t stop his greed from snatching the tantalizing taunt of money. The next thing Henry knew was that he was running through a museum, disregarding the damage of the exhibits as he zipped past the security, eyes fixed on a gleaming blue stone set behind a layer of glass. One police chase later and Henry was embracing the Tunisian Diamond as though he’d feared he had lost it forever. 

The days following were hazy. Once he had secured the diamond, Henry laid low in the safety of his home. It wasn’t much but it was a shelter he could come back to anytime to recollect his thoughts and plan the next move to solve his seemingly never ending money problem. However, it came to be that he wouldn’t be able to enjoy the comfort of his humble house for long. The government wanted him, and not in the way that he expected. 

Now, here we are, back over the arid stretch of desert that went on as far as the eye could see, the barren ground nothing but a reminder of how far from any civilization a person was. Fortunately, Henry didn’t have to worry much about finding a means of traversing on foot. The only thing he did have to worry about in the near future was whether he was willing to cooperate with the very thing he spent years avoiding.

A sudden jolt had the criminal’s eyes flying open in alarm. He couldn’t reason why his bed would suddenly shake nor why it was suddenly so uncomfortable. It was then he realized he was not laying in his bed or was even in his house, as a matter of fact. The muffled turning of propellers and the two men standing before him—grimly staring—was enough to shake Henry awake. 

“Well, well. Look who finally decided to wake up.”

Henry slid his focus to the man standing the closest to him, his rough voice mingling with the constant noise of propellers turning in the sky that seemed much brighter than Henry remembered. So they were in a helicopter…

Out of curiosity, and a strong instinct to do the obvious, he turned around to peer through a small window filtering in pale light over his shoulder. White tufts of clouds swooped past his vision as the helicopter made its way through the thickening haze.

“You’ve been quite elusive.”

Henry returned his attention to the two men, concerned more about what they wanted from him rather than the gun held ready in the hands of the man standing beside the one talking. The fitted caps they wore held a sickly green look, but the golden insignias sewn delicately on the front were unmistakable. They were from the government.

“But your skills make you worth the catch. You’ll be perfect for the job.”

The one speaking, Captain Galeforce, smiled thinly at the criminal. He’s heard all about Henry’s kind—no-good thieves who thought that the way to riches was by stealing it. But there was something to Henry that set him apart, something that was difficult to put a finger on. And it was exactly that mystery that Galeforce wanted to put to use for good. 

“We’ve been having some issues with a group of thieves known as the Toppat Clan. We know they’re guilty, we just can’t pin them to any crimes.” 

Galeforce looked thoughtful, his arms crossed comfortably in front of his chest as he directed his gaze to the window. Red flashed into view, the tailfin of an airship parting the clouds like a knife as the helicopter drew up to its level. From where he sat Henry made out the word TOPPAT that was painted onto the side of the brightly colored ship, a massive silhouette of the clan’s trademark hat plastered on the metal. 

“You’ll be going into their airship to bring them down. I don’t need to remind you that we’ve got you on several charges. Attempted robbery, breaking yourself out of prison… Heh, and even stealing the Tunisian Diamond. We’ve got quite a lot of counts on you.” Galeforce continued to talk as the soldier that was accompanying him turned the latch of the helicopter’s door. The door rolled back noisily, but was drowned out immediately by the propellers as the helicopter came to a hover. 

Henry stood up shakily from his seat, which had been what appeared to be a low military trunk, probably for weapons, parachutes, and medical equipment. But he was drawn toward the fresh air and the flood of light let in by the door. He came to the edge, daring to stand as close to the opening without being whisked away by the needy pull of the wind. 

Galeforce and Henry squinted out at the airship that cruised along. The captain narrowed his eyes, lines of his age creasing deeply on his face.

“Do this job right, and we’ll drop all charges against you. Charlie here—” He nodded his head toward the cockpit where Henry could just make out the bulky shape of a set of red headphones. 

“—will be bringing you close to the airship. The rest is up to you. Find a way to bring ‘em down, and you’ll be a free man.” Galeforce promptly walked off toward the cockpit to sit in the extra seat, leaving Henry to gaze out at the sudden drop separating him from the airship. 

The wind whistled loudly in his ears and stung his eyes. He blinked against the tears forming; he’s never been so high up before. Henry figured he would go along with what Galeforce said. After all, what criminal wouldn’t want a clean record? 

He grinned confidently, bracing himself for what he might have to face. He’s been oddly lucky and he had full confidence that if luck wouldn’t help him, then his experience at thieving would. 

“Hey, uh, how do you want me to bring you in?”

Henry turned his head toward where the voice piped up, nearly missing it over the loud noises circulating around him. Charles was peering at the criminal over his shoulder, a curious look resting on his face as he regarded Henry.

“I can bring you in with these—”

Henry might’ve ignored the pilot’s explanation of the gadgets he pulled from the trunk Henry had been sitting on earlier. He might’ve given a nod just to assure Charles that he was listening, but all his attention was suddenly directed elsewhere.

Charles’s sheepish smile was partially hidden as he looked at the grappling gun and earpiece in his hands.

“Heh, uh, you could probably get in from the viewing platform if you wanted,” Charles was saying, looking up to hear what Henry had decided. The thief, however, stood by the door with his hand groping for the wall to steady himself. It wasn’t the gentle swaying of the helicopter that made him unsteady, but the sudden short-circuiting of his mind.

Charles stood patiently with the gadgets in hand, a small friendly smile resting easily on his lips. 

Henry realized all too late he was staring openly at the pilot’s face, drinking in what other little details his eyes could catch. He had to choose some way to get into the airship. A quiet voice reasoned with him in his head, protesting that choosing meant to leave. 

And leaving meant he wouldn’t be able to look at the pilot’s smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ^^ Hi!
> 
> So, I was thinking that this story could be molded by you guys! The idea was that you’d choose what way Henry would get into the airship—with the earpiece, cannonball, sticky hand, or grappling gun. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed my story, and if not that’s ok! I’ll try harder to make a better one if that’s what you guys want!
> 
> I also accept helpful criticism :)  
> And if you have any ideas or requests I’d love to hear them!


	2. A Not So Quiet Infiltration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Henry realized all too late he was staring openly at the pilot’s face, drinking in what other little details his eyes could catch. He had to choose some way to get into the airship. A quiet voice reasoned with him in his head, protesting that choosing meant to leave.
> 
> And leaving meant he wouldn’t be able to look at the pilot’s smile.”
> 
> Henry finds himself faced with the sudden pressure of infiltrating the Toppat airship. It should be no problem for someone like him; he had luck and the assistance of Charles, the government pilot with an endearing smile. But Henry’s about to find out that though the pilot seemed initially hesitant to talk, he had plenty of other things to talk about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, wow. This did a lot better than I thought it would ^^ It makes me so happy that people seem to like this story! So, thank you so much for taking the time to read my crappy writing.
> 
> Here’s chapter 2! I apologize if it seems messy or rushed in some areas. I had a few struggles here and there, and had to squeeze in time to write this, but it was fun to write nonetheless. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Silence hung in the air, thickening until Henry was sure he was choking on it. He swallowed with some difficulty and made an effort to return Charles' smile. But when his eyes finally wandered over to meet the pilot’s, he felt his throat tighten, his mouth drying out faster than the barren desert below. 

He only gave a tight-lipped twitch of his lips in return before snatching the earpiece from Charles’ extended hand. Henry turned his back on him as he fumbled with the piece of equipment, hiding the defiant scarlet tint rising to his cheeks. 

Henry Stickmin, a criminal with a greedy eye for gemstones and cold hard cash, could not manage to make a simple smile. It was rather pathetic when someone thought about it. Sure, he’d allow a cocky grin slip onto his face when a particular news scene would catch his eye, or when he knew that a heist would end well when luck favored him. But when it boiled down to just smiling out of courtesy, Henry found it hard.

Especially when he suddenly felt like everything about him paled in comparison to Charles. 

After a few tries of unsuccessfully fastening the earpiece Charles quietly offered a hand.

“It’s not that hard.” The pilot spoke in a light tone, his sentence punctuated with a chuckle. He took up Henry’s hand that held the earpiece and fixed it properly on the side of the criminal’s head. 

“Hm? You’re shaking,” Charles noted. His long fingers had instinctively curled around Henry’s hand when he had taken the earpiece, feeling the slight tremors running along the criminal’s skin. “I know this mission is a bit sudden, but—”

Henry pushed away his lingering hand, inhaling deeply as he willed the blush that was spread on his face to fade. He shook his head as he kept his back toward the pilot. He had to focus. He had to do this to clear his record. That was the only thing that mattered. Not the fact that Charles’ fingers were warm and worn smooth from constantly gripping the cyclic, or the fact that his little laugh had made Henry’s heart pound painfully in his chest. 

Henry Stickmin was not someone who fell in love at first sight. No way, no how!

Charles withdrew his hand quickly when he was pushed away and the smile fell from his face. A sort of disappointment deepened his frown as he cleared his throat.

“Uh, right. You’ve probably done things like this before. I...I’ll get you close so you can board the airship.”

With each word his voice dropped quieter and quieter, until he mumbled out the last few words. He wasn’t sure what had got into him. It had been out of line, especially coming from someone working in the government.

He left Henry staring out at the airship as he walked back to the cockpit and slid into the pilot seat. Galeforce sat beside him, quiet and thoughtful while Charles maneuvered the helicopter toward the airship.

Henry leaned his face out to get a clearer view, sunlight and wind beating down on him and threatening to pull him out the door. 

“Alright, get ready to jump. Once you’re on, Imma fall back so they don’t detect me.”

Charles’ voice buzzed in his ear, cutting through the whine of the airship’s loud engines. The helicopter was eased lower, and Henry collected the last of his confidence before throwing himself out to the mercy of gravity.

Red, white, and blue spun in a dizzy race around Henry’s head as he plummeted, but not for long. He came crashing onto the heated metal of the airship with an unsettling thud. Henry felt every inch of his body give out and scream in protest. For managing to pull off daring escapes during heists, Henry Stickmin was probably the least graceful stickman on earth. 

Pain exploded behind his eyes as he cracked them open. It drummed loudly and filled his head, keeping him downed until Henry remembered the reason for being on the airship in the first place.

To clear his criminal record. 

He grit his teeth and pushed himself up. His legs felt numb and his knees buckled under the strain, but Henry forced his feet to take a step, then another, and another. He bent low as he trudged on, shielding his face from the curious touches of the wind, the mischievous gusts wiggling their way beneath his shirt and yanking it backward.

It took all of Henry’s strength to keep his feet planted firmly, but the smooth exterior of the metal and the pushing of the wind undid his pitiful progress. He slid along the length of the airship, grabbing out desperately for a hold until his knees couldn’t handle it anymore. Henry found himself meeting his friend, metal, once again. 

His chin connected and bounced off, rattling the already angry beating in his head. Henry touched his temple tentatively, desperate to alleviate the headache, but his instinct to stop sliding back was stronger. He had been dragged toward the steep curve of the airship’s wide girth. 

Lower and lower he slipped… 

It was moments like these that made Henry grateful for his unusual gift of luck. 

His hand snagged on an uneven patch of two welded plates. The burning metal burned into his fingers as he dug his nails into the thin edge that jutted out, barely noticeable unless someone ran their palm flat along the surface. Henry dangled helplessly, kicking his legs, looking for some sort of purchase to pull himself up with.

He managed to keep a foot in place under him and fling his body upward, scrambling back onto the top where he deflated with a huff. This was going to be more difficult than he thought. Once he revived a little, Henry opted to crawl rather than waste even more energy on keeping himself from dying. It was slower, but he felt more grounded to the metal than when he had been standing. Thinking back on it, it had been rather stupid. 

Henry came across the protruding dome of a hatch some few minutes later. Wiping the tears out of his eyes from the stinging wind, he nearly jumped when a burst of static erupted from his earpiece. He had almost forgotten he was wearing it.

“Check, check, this is Charles.”

The pilot sounded unsure over the comm, as if he wasn’t quite confident that the link was secure and Henry could hear him. But if he was he chose not to subject Henry to any questions about it.

Instead, Charles carried on, letting his voice fall into a conversational tone that, to Henry, sounded as if he wasn’t all too sure of what he should say.

“Just thought I’d, uh, give you a heads up.”

There was a brief pause as Charles realized he should elaborate on what waited below the hatch.

“Uhh.” The comm crackled to life again. “There’s a guy down there. A bad guy. So, uh, yeah… Good luck.”

Henry directed his attention to the hatch, half glad he knew what to expect and half wondering how he could get inside without raising an alarm. For the next few moments he huddled next to the hatch, digging inside his pockets for any odd item he might have thought to carry with him. The only useful thing he produced was a hand-sized explosive and a small bottle of acid that was tightly corked. He frowned at his options. He’d risk dying if he used either of them.

Time slipped away the longer he sat dumbfounded and alone on the airship. The harsh sun wasn’t helping either, and Henry lifted his hand to catch the beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. And what were the odds… 

Under the shade of his palm, Henry’s eyes landed on a large hose left dangling in the wind. It hissed loudly through a wide nozzle capped on the end, whipping back and forth as it sucked in a continuous breath of air. 

Henry felt himself perk up and quickly made his way over. He wrestled the nozzle onto the sealed hatch and let a smile of triumph creep onto his lips when he heard it rip off its hinges. The moment was short-lived when he noticed a second bulge rocket along the length of the hose, a plea of help quickly fading away. He gave a small shrug and wasted no time in lifting the nozzle up to descend a ladder placed at the mouth of the opening. Cold AC hit his forehead at full blast, and Henry paused at the bottom to enjoy it. 

“Hey, good job there!” Charles said, buzzing in over the earpiece. 

Henry grabbed the rails of the ladder tightly, letting go once he realized it was only the pilot. He wasn’t used to working with someone, much less someone as loud as Charles, but he repeated what Galeforce had said earlier in his mind. He was doing this to clear his criminal record. After this, he could go back home and catch up on some much needed rest. As Henry went over this, his thoughts were plagued by Charles’ voice. The pilot seemed to grow comfortable with talking the more he walked Henry through the operation, and an unbidden image of his smile was shoved to the forefront of Henry’s mind. 

His hands started to glisten with sweat and tremble, the uncomfortable feeling of his stomach churning and his heart clambering up into his throat returning. 

“Oh, uh, so you should look for something incriminating,” Charles suggested once he finished a quick rant on how excited he was to be working with him, and that he’s always wanted to do something heroic. “Something we can use to prove that they’re criminals, y’know?”

Henry looked around the room he had dropped into while the pilot carried on. 

“I mean, that’s the whole point of this operation.” 

There was a stretch of silence that followed, and Henry guessed that Charles had finally run out of things to say; not that he minded the rambly fellow. 

He was in a small room furnished with two seats in a corner. Most of the light came from ceiling panels high above his head, but a nearby window let in a ray of white sunlight that danced on the floor. Henry crept toward the other end of the room, pressing his back against the wall as several voices floated through an opening. 

Just beyond the threshold stretched a table with several seated Toppats. Their voices were loud enough for Henry to catch snippets of their discussion as he delved his hand into his pocket again to fish out an item. His fingers brushed along the top of numerous knickknacks he managed to shove into the seemingly endless pit of his pants. Some things were sharp, some were soft, some…questionable. However, he closed in on a stiff bottle of some sort. There was a long list as to what it could be, and some of the possibilities made Henry dread as to what he had blindly tossed into his pocket this time around.

He did not expect it to be glue. 

Henry stared questionably at the white bottle clasped in his hand. The orange nozzle was encased in dried glue from previous use, the label still bold and bright as if freshly made. Really it was just a sign of how little it was used. Still, he twisted it open and squeezed out a delicate white drop. The drop soon streamed out steadily into his palm, adhering to his skin as he balled his fist. The glue stuck fast and thick, and Henry’s mind reeled in excitement as he began to lather his hand in a generous amount, making sure to thoroughly cover his other hand. 

Once both his hands were coated, he stepped onto one of the seats and hoisted himself to the ceiling. He firmly pressed his hands against the flat surface to ensure the glue stuck, then slowly began to work through the door and over the heads of the unsuspecting Toppats below. 

Henry thought he might drop from the ceiling at any given time, and he flinched at each quiet squelch the glue made as he adjusted his hands. The room seemed to stretch on for a long time until, finally, he reached the end and jumped down out of sight. 

Another small room was connected, but it seemed to lead off to other parts of the airship through the elevator that Henry spied against the far wall. His feet made a move toward it. As he took a step, however, the doors hissed and jumped back. Henry’s adrenaline surged and he dove headfirst into a nearby chute.

He was immediately swallowed up by pitch black, and his gag reflex was tempted as a putrid smell came to accompany him. It wasn’t a long ride until he broke through a bend in the chute and was deposited ungracefully on the edge of a pit. 

Henry lay face down on the cold metal flooring, choking on the sudden rush of fresh air filling his lungs. He clambered to his feet a few moments later, listening for any sign of a Toppat member down the corridor behind him. The wall next to him was a faded red as signs pointed to what lay ahead.

The cells and vault were directly behind him, two straight lines of green shooting off down the hall. It was tempting. He could break into the Toppats’ treasure and disregard the government’s offer. Or maybe he could join—

“Oh, hey!” Charles’ voice came over the earpiece, once again chasing away the criminal’s thoughts. 

“Uh, you see that records sign? Where it says ‘Records’?”

Across the separated platforms was another hall with an orange line painted in its direction. The word RECORDS sat at the beginning.

Henry confirmed that he could see it, looking over his shoulder longingly at the hall that supposedly led to the vault.

Charles, on the other hand, seemed thrilled with how well he and Henry worked together. Even if he had done most of the talking. 

“That’d probably be a good place to look, right?” he said. The pilot was following Henry’s progress over a schematic of the airship. He was getting close to the records room, but there was the matter of—

“Let me just, uh, help you across that gap.” He chuckled sheepishly into the mic extending from his headset.

“I got the perfect plan.” 

Henry stared blankly at the records sign as he listened. He wasn’t sure what plan the pilot had in mind, but the sudden shift in his tone, a subtle note of excitement, made the criminal uneasy. He asked if there was possibly a safe way over that wouldn’t alert half the Toppat Clan to his presence. 

A silence between Henry and Charles followed. Henry shifted uncomfortably on his feet, half wondering if the comm had broken or if he’d just screwed up. 

But Charles eventually spoke again, sounding as though he'd been hurt. “Alright, here it comes.” 

An orange parcel landed at Henry’s feet, jumping up and unfolding itself swiftly. It was a flying robot made to resemble a cartoonish fox, the tails fashioned to be propellers. Henry pushed aside the worry that he had perhaps been too insensitive to Charles, and reached up to grab onto the robot’s paws.

It lifted him off the ground and sputtered its way across the gap, dropping a few inches in the air as the old engine in it coughed; but Henry made it over with relative ease. 

He took off down the hall and came to a bigger room that opened up. Two large fans whirred in the floor as a small staircase led up to a coded doorway of which a Toppat was having difficulty opening. The Toppat squinted accusingly at the keypad as it buzzed angrily at him again.

“Put the card in,” he huffed. It was hard to tell if he was talking to himself or to the stubborn device.

“I don’t think that guy knows how to open the door,” Charles observed. His voice had fallen back to a casual tone, seemingly haven gotten over Henry’s brushoff a few minutes ago. “Yeah, why don’t you let me take care of this?” 

The Toppat gripped his hat in frustration. “I don’t understand this!” he sighed. He was holding a keycard, his brow furrowed as he tried again to open the door.

Then something peculiar happened. Something that Henry thought was not possible. The Toppat trembled violently before melting into a puddle, his keycard fluttering to the floor.

“What?” Henry couldn’t help but let a hoarse word slip past his lips. 

“I melted his bones,” Charles explained proudly. “Yeah, uh… he should be fine.”

Henry raised an eyebrow in suspicion that the Toppat would not, in fact, be fine. Bones did not grow back, unless, of course, you just happened to have a bottle of skele-gro conveniently lying around. 

He tiptoed cautiously around the Toppat puddle and picked up the keycard, easily punching in the password and getting through to the records room.

Cabinets and shelves stood neatly in rows with labels glistening over their respective collection. A round table stood in the center of the room, a chair on either side bolted to the floor. Another Toppat sat, amused, in one of the two seats, reading a file in his hands.

He chuckled, muttering to himself. “Oh, man. I remember this… Good thing nobody knows about this, or we’d be in a lot of trouble.” He was grinning to himself, blissfully unaware of Henry staring right at his back behind him. 

Henry racked his brain for ideas. There wasn’t much around him except thick binders sitting on shelves that probably were too heavy to lift. He looked around for anything else, vaguely noting the small spider scurrying along the floor. After a few seconds of nothing, Henry turned his attention to his pocket. 

His hand was jabbed sharply when he reached in. He had to bite his lip to stop the pained yell building in his throat. Henry pulled out a blunt stick from his pocket, a thin splinter stuck deep in his index finger. 

He plucked it out gingerly, sucking the tender flesh as he dug around for a length of string and hunted down the spider. This trick always worked in movies. Why shouldn’t it work for him?

Carefully tying an end of the string to the stick and the other end around the spider, Henry tiptoed up to the Toppat. He grinned, about to lower the spider when a sudden transmission from Charles interrupted him.

“Oh, man!” The pilot sounded like he was trying to not laugh, his voice shaking with the effort. “That duck just flew right into the propellor! Oh, what a mess!” Toward the end he gave up and began laughing. In the background, Henry could hear Galeforce’s gruff voice barking at Charles before the connection was cut off. 

Henry grimaced as he made eye contact with the Toppat who was glaring at him and now very annoyed; but before he could draw his gun, however, Henry smacked him with the stick. The Toppat promptly went down without a word. 

Henry freed the spider once he made sure the Toppat was truly unconscious, then he snatched up the file he had been perusing and made for the door. The criminal could feel the end getting close. He just had to avoid any more run-ins and he’d have a clean slate. 

Just as he reached another door sealed with a code, the earpiece buzzed to life with Charles’ voice. It seemed the pilot always had something to say. Ironic since Henry was supposed to not get caught. 

Charles sounded slightly out of breath as he spoke, and Henry could easily imagine him smiling. “Alright, you got some evidence!” 

Henry’s own lips curled up in a satisfied grin, greedily showering in the friendly praise. He found himself giddily hugging the file as he raised a hand to punch digits into the keypad beside the door. 

“Whoa, wait, wait!” 

And just like that Henry was pulled out of his euphoria and thrown back into reality. He tensed, waiting for what made the pilot sound so urgent.

“There’s no way you’re getting through there.” 

Henry frowned at the news. 

“Lots of guys and there’s lots of guns, that’s all I’m gonna say.”

Oh. 

Even with Henry’s luck, he agreed that stepping through the door would be suicide. It was always moments like these when his luck decided to psych him out and backstab him. 

Henry stared despondently at the wall. He wondered if he could backtrack somehow. Working alone often posed the potential of sacrificing a limb… 

“It looks like you could get around if you go through the air duct.”

But the glorious thing about Henry’s situation was that he wasn’t alone. He had Charles! And if he had Charles then maybe going along with the government wasn’t that bad. 

His eyes fell on the grate on the floor, and he made quick work with removing the cover. A ladder led down into a vent big enough for Henry to stand if he hunched over. The vent was dark, save for the occasional flash of a bolt of blinding electricity. 

Henry could feel the hairs along his arms rise as the heat came to press in on him. Another bolt crackled along the vent, setting off a spray of sparks. Henry blinked as he was temporarily blinded, grateful for the few seconds of darkness that settled before another burst would go off.

“Alright, I’ve hacked into their power grid,” Charles said over the earpiece. “What do you want me to do?”

Hacking wasn’t Henry’s forte. Doing the unorthodox was more his style. He trusted the pilot to do what it would take to keep the electricity from shocking him. 

Henry opened his mouth to inform the pilot that he’d trust whatever decision he’d make, as long he could get through without being electrocuted, but he ended up sneezing as a curtain of dust rained on him. The loud sound reverberated around the vent and echoed into the mic.

Back on the helicopter Charles frowned. Did… did Henry just...bleat? He looked toward the captain who only shook his head. 

“Okay…” he said after a moment’s pause, unsure if he was hearing correctly. “I-I don’t understand what that means.” 

“I meant reroute the power!” Henry said, agitated that his nose now felt unbearably itchy. He sniffled once and decided to place the folder on his head to shield himself from any more random dust rains.

“Oh. Ok, I’ll reroute the power to a random room. That’s fine,” Charles responded, then under his breath, “Don’t need to get snippy about it.”

Henry waited a few long seconds, not keen on getting zapped if he ran through and Charles hadn’t yet redirected the power. Somewhere in the airship though, a distressed yell came from a secluded room, an eerie red glow flooding a nearby corridor. 

The vent lay still and stuffy, however, so Henry tentatively began to shuffle across until he reached yet another ladder. He scaled it and popped off the grate at the top. It led to another large room, this one filled with wooden crates and various items that may have been too large to store away. Two Toppats stood guard near the bay door at the end of the room. 

“Alright, Henry. You’re almost there!” 

It was all the criminal wanted to hear. He’s run in with one too many of the clan members for his liking. 

“I’m right outside, so just open the bay doors and I’ll, uh, get you on the chopper.” 

Henry clambered out of the vent and sidled along the wall, keeping out of the line of sight of the Toppats. His fingers found a button, to which he wasted no time in thinking to push it. The door at the other end began to retract upward, alarming the guards.

One of them finally spotted Henry, and he pointed an accusing finger at him. “Hey!” he yelled. “What do you think you’re doing?!” 

His partner, laid-back and unhurried, raised a walkie-talkie in his hand slowly. “Yeah, uh, we got a situation in the cargo bay,” he said, the last part of his sentence drowned out by the roar of propellers, Charles’ helicopter swooping into view. 

Henry narrowed his eyes as the afternoon light rushed forward to fill the dim room. The only thing separating him from his freedom were a couple of morons who stood their ground, waiting for his move so they could stop him accordingly. 

Luckily, Charles seemed to always be prepared for these kinds of situations. He tapped into the communication feed over the earpiece, whispering into the mic.

“Psst, hey! There’s a button on your earpiece. You should press it,” he advised, sounding like he’d just given Henry a present and was excited to see him open it, even though he already knew what was inside. 

Henry did as the pilot told him. A small gray cylinder was flung into the air, unfolding until it was a gun that looked like it had a satellite dish stuck on its front. He experimentally pulled the trigger, aiming at the Toppats. 

An unseen force shot from the gun’s peculiar head, shoving the two out the rear of the airship. He smiled, feeling truly triumphant at last, and the unraveling excitement in him was enough to make him charge fearlessly toward what looked like a guaranteed fate similar to the Toppats he’d just ejected from the cargo bay. 

The edge approached in the blink of an eye, and Henry took that leap of faith. The wind slapped his face as he ducked his head to point the gun down, grunting as he was shot upward and into the awaiting cabin of Charles’ helicopter. He landed roughly on the metal flooring, but not even his aching body was enough to quell his relief of completing the mission. 

Galeforce took the file Henry had stolen, giving him an approving nod. “Well, done, Henry. We’ll make sure your crimes are pardoned.” 

Henry gave him a thumbs-up, making his way to a seat near the cockpit, catching his breath. Charles was standing up from the pilot’s seat, a bright smile lighting his face as he congratulated the thief warmly. 

“That was amazing, Henry! You and I make a pretty good team.” 

Henry found himself easily returning his smile, and moved up to the passenger seat in the cockpit as Charles skillfully maneuvered the chopper away from the fleeting airship. 

They settled into a comfortable silence, each of them reveling in the success, until Charles broke it. 

“So… uh, why’d you bleat?” He looked over at Henry with a questioning stare.

It took the criminal by surprise. “What do you mean?” he asked softly, raising an eyebrow.

“Back there, in the, uh, air duct, you bleated.”

It took a few moments for Henry to realize what the pilot was talking about before he raised a hand to slap his own face.

“I didn’t bleat, I sneezed!” 

Charles didn’t look convinced as he focused his attention out of the cockpit’s window, though his small mischievous smile didn’t go unnoticed. 

“I’m sure you did, though,” he teased.

Henry’s annoyed huff was followed by the pilot’s laughter as they headed back toward the city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so excited to get this story going and for the drama to get messy! 
> 
> Please feel free to leave helpful criticism or any suggestions; I’m open to anything and I wanna improve my writing for you guys.
> 
> Have a wonderful day/night!


	3. The Bitter Storm Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s been several months since Henry’s run-in with the government and the heist of the Toppat Clan airship. He’s earned a clean slate, but that won’t stop him from thinking it’s high-time to get his hands on more cash. But with a past that’s come to exact what’s due to Henry, and a darkness brewing unseen, the criminal may have just run out of luck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, I’ve been so busy I couldn’t write this sooner than I wanted, but I finished thankfully. Thank you so much for the continued support. Again, it makes me happy that people seem to enjoy my story despite my amateur writing skill.
> 
> I just wanna give a little warning...
> 
> There’s blood and some violence. In my opinion, it’s not bordering on extreme, but if you’re sensitive to those kinds of things, please be careful as you read. 
> 
> Other than that, enjoy! ^^

It was dark and damp and cold. Henry felt his feet trip along as he was pulled roughly by the chain of his restraints, the tight bonds pinching his hands. He held his defiant silence, keeping his head low, the only sound echoing in the corridor being the shuffling of shoes and the gentle tinny noise of the cuffs knocking into each other. 

Henry would be lying if he said he hadn’t expected to be caught up on the wrong side of the law again. He couldn’t help it. Thievery gave him a rush unlike domestic life could; it was more of an addiction than a choice at this point. An addiction that gave him a sense of purpose in life and made his otherwise mundane existence meaningful, even if it led him to be labeled as a criminal.

He’s seen twenty-eight years, and has lived on through the misfortune of others. It seemed only fitting that he would earn retribution in return. However, to be paying for his crimes in this way, this early after he’s been cleared of his past transgressions, it seemed quite a bit unfair to him—like they hadn’t given him a head-start in the game they were playing. 

The procession came to a dingy room with not a word passed between them, except the breathy conversations of onlooking guards. Their murmurs were rough and strange, but Henry didn’t have the time, nor a choice, to listen in as he was shoved forcefully into pitch-black. He stumbled blindly and fell forward until he eventually tripped and landed on his face. 

A nasty chuckle filled the void, coming to attack Henry from all around him as the door creaked shut with an ominous bang. Heavy footsteps made their way toward him through the dark and a second set came up behind the fallen criminal, calloused hands balling the fabric of his shirt to drag him up into the seat of a metal chair. 

The restraints were yanked behind his back, and Henry along with them, only stopped by the chairpost that jabbed into his spine. He grunted at the impact, disoriented by the throbbing pain in his head and in his back, and the sudden flood of white light that spotlighted him. 

It pooled neatly in a circle at his feet, softly illuminating the far edges of the gloom, bright enough for Henry to trace the proud square shoulders of his unknown captor. 

“Ah, hello, Henry…” 

From the shadows stepped an aged man, his gray beard and mustache framing the thin smile he wore. He regarded Henry through squinted eyes, and it made the latter shiver under his gaze, resenting the present situation. He felt too vulnerable, and the hungry, triumphant gleam in the warden’s eyes served to only tighten the knot of dread coiling in the pit of his stomach.

“Welcome to The Wall.”

Henry tested his bonds, knowing full well it wasn’t much use. The chain was taut and clattered noisily against the seat. Unfortunately, Henry wasn’t the most flexible stickman, otherwise he’d have half the mind to shimmy the restraints along the post and jump on the warden without a second thought. His apparent discomfort, however, seemed to only please the man before him, his already toothy grin flashing even more teeth. 

“Some of the most cunning and notorious criminals are kept here, and now we have the infamous Henry Stickmin…”

He drew himself up, his stature grand and proud despite getting on in his years, apparently not hampered enough to keep him from acquiring his newest prisoner. And by the look of things, he had been anticipating this moment for a while.

“You’re going to be here for a long time,” he finished in a gravelly voice, the smug grin on his face never once faltering. 

“Grigori!” The warden called forward the man lurking out Henry’s line of vision. He couldn’t see the other, but Henry could feel each hot breath fan the nape of his neck, teasing goosebumps to the surface of his clammy skin. “Take him.”

The lightbulb flickered out and Henry had no choice but to submit to the darkness that blinded him once again. Keys jangled to his right and he was taken by the back of his shirt, being pulled toward the door that stood shrouded in the impenetrable dim.

Grigori kept a hand firmly secured in the fabric of Henry’s shirt, working through the keys looped on his chain by memory, feeling the jagged heads until his fingers caught on the right one. Fixing it to the doorknob, he twisted until a resounding click signaled the lock being undone. Promptly he swung open the door, a pale, sickly light working its way through the barred window just outside.

Henry could feel his eyes burn as they adjusted, having just gotten used to distinguishing the bare layout of previous room. He was left squinting as an impatient prod from Grigori forced him to continue along the corridor. 

It was a long stretch of silence as Grigori marched his charge past awaiting cells, his grip never leaving Henry’s shirt until he unceremoniously pushed him into another bare room. The walls matched the floors that decorated The Wall a dull gray, the only details breaking the drab theme being a crooked banner yellowing at the edges that listed off rules, a brightly covered book tossed into one corner with its binding frayed down to mere threads, and a lone stool. Dirt crusted along veins that riddled the holding cell, dry and pale from years of neglect.

Henry glanced around the space, noting the only exit being blocked by Grigori and the hunched form of a woman seated on the ground. She appeared to not notice him, or, if she did, chose not to acknowledge her fellow convict. It was probably difficult with her scarlet hair falling across her face as she moped, her head low and her whole posture that of one who lost all hope.

He spared her a glance, continuing to survey the room. Far above he could make out the faint grooves of a trapdoor in the ceiling. It was too high for him to reach alone, but he suspected he could swing onto the nearby pipeline if he got a boost. Henry let his gaze linger on the woman as he weighed his options. He didn’t know where the trapdoor could lead to, though he reckoned he had a better chance of escaping under the cover of The Wall’s inner workings than charging recklessly down the hall. Then again, his pride as a criminal and his preference for operating alone seemed to always make all the other rational choices outlandish. Henry Stickmin was a thief of uncommon methods and irregular doses of luck. Who was he to not use every trick up his sleeve?

So, without dawdling further on his thoughts, Henry sped right for an unsuspecting Grigori, angling his shoulder so it collided squarely with the man’s back. The guard went sprawling onto the ground, knocked cold as he bashed into the wall on his way down, Henry sprinting from the scene.

The hall was one long stretch of cells, their heavy doors left gaping open or tightly sealed. Henry felt his heart thud rapidly in his chest, adrenaline keeping his legs from losing their stride as he ignored the alarmed cries of several guards. He wasn’t sure what his goal was other than getting the hell out. 

Though the hall seemed endless, Henry was aware of the towering dead-end coming into view, the heavy weight of the cuffs breaking his focus. He was getting slowed down by the bothersome bonds, and at the worst time. A bullet whizzed dangerously close to his left ear, nicking the skin ever so slightly, but Henry felt as though he’d been cut with a knife. The unmistakable warmth of blood bubbling from the wound made him grimace, feeling droplets splatter onto his front.

Several gunshots cracked through the hall like a succession of thunder rolls booming in the air. More bullets darted past Henry, some grazing his arms as they cut seamlessly through the sleeves of his shirt, one managing to land a mark on his leg as it flew by. 

He risked a look over his shoulder, alarmed as he made out the next round hurtling his way. A thin scarlet flow meandered down his skin, dribbling a splotchy trail on the gray cement flooring. Henry’s limbs felt weighed down from the pain, each step a struggle, but he grit his teeth against the pain and maneuvered himself out of the way of certain death. He even managed to stand a few leaps, a second to spare for each bullet as they struck the ground. 

Henry threw his weight forward as he arced in the air, carrying the momentum of his sprint into surfing on his restraints. Sparks flew in his wake as he claimed safety out of the range of gunshot. He gasped for breath, the hall tilting in a dizzying sway before evening out in ragged shapes Henry could just discern. A cluster of tan blobs dotted his vision, refusing to fade away as he blinked his eyes, seeming to draw closer. It was then that Henry realized they were actual objects, crashing into the side of a crate that was left standing in the hall. Straw scraped his open wounds, and in turn Henry’s blood tainted it red. 

Exhaustion flooded his system and every inch of him seemed to sigh in relief, his body deflating into the crate’s padding, grateful for the stop. His vision refocused and then gleamed with mischief. An iridescent box gently hovered before him, emitting a ray of gentle light from the question mark held within. He instinctively nudged the edge with his nose, flinching away as it burst into shards, chiming out loudly. 

Henry could hear voices outside the crate, growing louder with each hollow echo of their footsteps. He climbed out of the straw packaging and to his feet, the restraints falling from his hands as he readied himself to run for when the guards noticed him, but they passed a blind eye. They stood over the busted crate, exchanging confused glances and discussing in the foreign language Henry had heard earlier with thick accents. 

It took a brief moment for him to realize that they could not see him, so he lightly scurried away, not realizing the breath he’d been holding until he reached the end of the hall. An elevator lay waiting before him, to which Henry gladly stepped in and sunk to the ground once the steel doors slid shut.

As the carriage trundled up, Henry scrutinized his wounds, his attire a mess of hanging threads and thin gashes where the bullets had torn past him. The bleeding had thankfully stopped, most of it being soaked up by the fabric of his shirt. His ear still angrily stung, but not as persistent as before. Other than being covered in his own blood, and probably ignoring Death’s call more than once, Henry couldn’t stop the satisfied smile surfacing on his mouth. He leaned heavily against the elevator’s wall, resting his buzzing head on the cold metal as a manic laugh bubbled its way up his throat. The jumpy movements of his shoulders heaving with the effort made his body feel pinned down with pain.

But he was alive.

And Henry Stickmin would swear on his own life he’d get out of this hellhole.

As the elevator gradually ascended, the stuffy air inside cooled until Henry was shivering, his breath fanning out in a white cloud with each exhale. The carriage grinded to a sudden halt, jerking in place before the doors pried open with a whine. 

Snow rained in like frosted needles as Henry scrambled from the elevator and to the cover of a pile of boxes stacked against the facility wall. The whole landscape was doused in white and a bleak dark gray, a full moon hanging in the inky black sky. Nearby a dirt road dusted with the fresh snow wound its way to the far edge of the perimeter fence, guarded by a strikingly blue tank. 

Henry wiped the flakes from his eyelashes and squinted out across the stretch of distance between him and the fence, turning his head up as several speakers crackled to life. He bared his teeth in annoyance as he recognized the staticky voice that filtered through. 

“Attention. We have an escaped convict. He was last seen heading towards the surface. Don’t make me do this myself.”

So, that’s how he wanted to play: have his minions do all the dirty work… 

Henry balled his trembling hands into fists. It felt like a challenge from the warden. Was he not good enough for the warden himself to face? He glared at the now silent speaker and gathered his last reserve of strength, ignoring the gnawing numbness settling in the tips of his fingers and toes.

He crawled from the cover of the boxes, ploughing a trail as he mentally noted where he wanted to go. It was quite a sprint to the fence, not to mention he’d have to skirt around the security that now flooded the scene, but his pain had ebbed away to nothingness and his ego had been stroked the wrong way. 

The Wall was not going to beat him.

Even with the fierce determination surging through his cold and battered body, Henry’s hand lingered on the surface of the box he had emerged from, curling desperately at the frosted edges of its own accord, as if he’d just found a precious tether to life and couldn’t afford to let go. However, Henry couldn’t afford to remain planted to the spot either, so tentatively he left the safety of the last offer of shelter he had and sprinted into the white haze. 

He left a path of his footprints that were quickly filled in as he dashed along the visible line of the dirt road, each step sinking into the powdery snow that alighted delicately on the ground. It was an uneventful sprint, which Henry was grateful for. The tank he had seen from a distance had slowly meandered to the far side of the yard, giving him a clear way to an idling truck parked conveniently nearby. 

His breakout hadn’t gone unnoticed, though. A guard stood waiting, barring off the road, daring the convict to approach. He wielded a heavy blade in one hand, the polished metal glinting from the white shafts of moonlight trickling through the storm. Henry came skidding to a halt on the frosted path, raising his head to meet the intense stare of the guard who took up a defensive stance. 

Their eyes watered from the sting of the wind, refusing to turn away from the heated stare-down as they stepped simultaneously closer, baring their teeth or narrowing their eyes in hopes of winning through sheer intimidation. They marched up to one another, holding the suspense that mounted to the breaking point, the tension suddenly boiling over.

The guard lunged with a broad stroke that cut through the air. Henry backstepped from its reach, hesitant to engage in the fight, not wanting to lose any more blood than he already had, but getting through the guard would grant his escape. So, with a brief pause to send a prayer, Henry charged forward with a deafening cry ripping from his throat. 

He veered out of the way of another desperate lunge, thrusting his hand forward to grip the sword’s hilt to wrest it from the guard. Henry dove for the ground, tumbling out of reach again as a foot caught the side of his ribs. He clutched the sword tightly, the cold skin of his hands cracking under the pressure to let fresh blood dribble out.

Henry raised a hand to wipe away the film of snow clinging to his eyelashes. Red smeared across his vision, but that was the last thing he was concerned about. Through the lashing curtain of snowflakes he made out the outline of the guard, already bearing down on him with an ugly twist of his mouth. Henry sharply inhaled, swallowing a lungful of piercing cold air while the sword tip flashed briefly, menacingly, on its trajectory for the guard’s chest. 

Fabric tore apart without a hitch, the metal of the blade tearing through bone and flesh until it surfaced on the other side, nestled snugly up to its hilt. Its silver gleam was dampened by the shine of the scarlet tint painting its length. The guard wheezed once, a pitiful croak at the back of his throat, before he collapsed face-down on the dirt. His arms draped across Henry and shuddered as the convict fought down the reflex to gag at the sight. 

Henry shoved the corpse away, his hands trembling violently as he tossed the sword, struggling onto unsteady legs that failed him twice before being able to stand properly. He wobbled a step at a time toward his goal, the awaiting blue truck just a few yards away. He could make it.

He could… 

He was so cold. 

He was so weak. 

His fingers were so painful to move, his skin so pale and dry and rough. Henry leaned on the truck’s trailer once he reached it, closing his eyes, letting the darkness behind his eyelids serve as a last moment of solace.

He was getting out of here. 

He was going to make it.

And all that was stopping him was a damned fence and three guards. Henry’s made it this far with his uncanny ability to escape and his pure gift of luck. It was a moment of revival for him, the pain and the cold drawing his attention to the fact that he’s alive and not dead. He’s come too far to just give in and die. 

Henry cautiously peered around the rear of the truck, sizing up the enemy, wary of the staff that glinted from the grip of one of the guards.

“Aight, he’s up here somewhere,” one drawled in an accent, speaking to his companions. “We cannot let him get through this gate.” He paused, switching his gaze between the two before double-taking at the sight of the one holding the staff. “Nice ‘at.”

Henry smiled mischievously as he slunk away to the driver’s side quietly, turning the key that was carelessly left inserted in the ignition slot. The engine roared to life as the vehicle shuddered. Henry slammed the gas pedal, thrown against the seat as the truck lurched into motion. He turned the vehicle around and aimed straight for the gate, picking up speed as he came crashing through, ramming into one of the guards who was unfortunate to not move out of the way in time.

The road cut through an expanse of white, sparsely broken by the spindly limbs of pine trees. To the left the road abruptly dropped away to a sheer cliff. Henry was wary to keep away from this edge as he battled against the battering wind. He risked a hand off the wheel to tweak the mirror, nearly jumping in his seat when he noticed the growing shapes of several cars in pursuit. 

They caught up quickly, flanking Henry on either side as gunners flung open hatches on the car roofs, hoisting heavy rifles and taking aim. Henry glanced at the road, a sharp curve following the cliff’s direction rapidly approaching. A loud crack muffled by the glass was followed by the window to Henry’s left shattering. A few shards nicked his cheek as the wind came to numb the sting. 

Henry didn’t have the time or patience anymore for this bullshit.

He gripped the gearshift and cranked it to a different position, nearly snapping it clean off, his feet working the pedals as he jerked the truck to the left. There was a loud bang that rocked the truck on its wheels as Henry collided with one of the pursuers, forcing them off the edge of the cliff. The impact sent the truck careening out of control, drifting along the road until it tilted over and began to somersault. 

Henry was bashed around the small passenger seat as his world flipped and twisted and rolled. He felt sick to his stomach and dreaded that he would be sent plummeting far down below as the truck inched closer and closer to the edge. He scrambled away from the broken window as much as he could, hardly daring to do anything else as he felt the front of the truck teeter over the cliff.

Above the noise of his racing heart, Henry made out the quiet idling of a car and the unmistakable voice of the warden. 

“I have to say Henry, I’m impressed. Really I am.” He talked slow and deliberate, biding his time with approaching the overturned vehicle.

“You are the first person to escape The Wall. But this is the end for you.” 

Henry carefully raised himself to his feet, taking care not to shift his weight too much, and craned his neck out the window above his head. He could see the old man leisurely strolling toward him, wearing the same smirk he had seen earlier. 

“You’ve got two options here, Henry,” the warden offered, his tone not matching the merciful words he said. You stay in there, or you return with us back to the complex.”

The warden lifted a foot to rest it on top of a tire, slyly nudging the truck more and more toward the steep fall. Surely no one was dumb enough to stay in a precarious position such as Henry’s. Surely the convict would see the sense in surrendering. 

But the truck continued to slip farther away, past the point of being stopped. 

“What’s it going to be, Henry?”

Henry considered the options within the precious window of time he had left. He had escaped, alive, just like he planned. He had nowhere to go, except down or back to the very place he swore to leave. Honestly, he had nothing left. 

“Hm… well, that’s too bad.” 

The warden’s patience was gone. He’s spent too much time on Henry Stickmin. It was better anyway if he was dead. He raised his foot again and gave the last shove to the truck, pushing it over the cliff and spiraling down to a watery grave below. 

Not even Henry Stickmin could survive such a fall. 

To be continued...


	4. The Bitter Storm Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry considered the options within the precious window of time he had left. He had escaped, alive, just like he planned. He had nowhere to go, except down or back to the very place he swore to leave. Honestly, he had nothing left.
> 
> “Hm… well, that’s too bad.”
> 
> The warden’s patience was gone. He’s spent too much time on Henry Stickmin. It was better anyway if he was dead. He raised his foot again and gave the last shove to the truck, pushing it over the cliff and spiraling down to a watery grave below.
> 
> Not even Henry Stickmin could survive such a fall.

The wind howled restlessly through the dead of the night, pelting the moonlit landscape in a deceivingly serene snowfall. For miles the deserted mountaintop lay undisturbed and quiet, only broken by the treadmarks that stained the white scene black. The last of the straggling vehicles carefully navigated through the storm, ploughing their way along a dirt road that led to a squatting gray facility on the brink of a cliff before turning a corner and disappearing from sight.

Quiet fell, and peace was restored...

The moon dipped low in the sky, seeking cover behind a gathering of gray clouds that lurked in the shadow of the distant mountains. It was a cold night. The kind of night no sane person would think about being caught in. 

The same could not be said for one particular person, however.

Hidden in the thick curtain of falling snow, the road stretched along a precarious ridge, of which fell away to the murky depths of the awaiting sea that frothed angrily. The wreckage of a truck, crumpled and folded like a mere piece of paper, lay in ruins on the foot of the cliff, washing away with each roll of the tide. It had served as both a critical asset and a trap, but also had opened up a new path to its sole survivor. 

A hand shot up, trembling and bleeding, over the lip of the drop-off. It grabbed vainly at the fresh snow that powdered the ground, finding purchase on a rock, pulling up the feeble frame of a man covered in dirt, snow, and blood. He squinted against the wind, forcing his hand to curl tighter around the stone, ignoring the painful ache as he scrambled to safety onto solid ground. 

Henry took a shuddering breath as the weight of his exhaustion pressed him face-down in the searing cold of the snow cushioning him. Each limb felt as if it’d been ripped off, stuffed with lead, then stitched back on. He could hardly stir a muscle, only daring to take shallow breaths to avoid agitating his wounds. A long tear in his sleeve exposed a ragged gash where the remains of the truck’s window had caught him as it went careening down to the ocean. Henry had managed to squeeze through the narrow opening, snagging his shirt in the process as he lunged desperately for the cliff face.

And now, he was all alone, light-headed from a raging headache that throbbed behind his eyes and at risk of freezing to death. Maybe it would be better if he succumbed to the darkness that lay before him as he held his eyes shut. It was a void of nothing, harboring nothing but the unseen depths of his mind. It was daunting, the mass expanse of it all, but at the same time it was more comforting than the thought of facing the world that awaited. 

A part of Henry scolded him for thinking of giving up so soon. Was everything he had lived for, nearly died for, all for nothing? Was it just one big loop he’d been aimlessly running? 

Henry debated the reason for his reluctance while he summoned the little strength granted to him from the brief rest. He hauled himself to his feet, turning his back to the complex down the road, and trudged through the storm. His tattered clothing offered no protection, the cold enveloping him in its vice grip.

He wrapped his arms around himself in a pitiful attempt to generate some warmth, tucking his stiff hands into his armpits. The journey seemed endless, the night a never-ending blanket of black stretched across the sky. Henry pushed himself to keep going, ignoring the small voice that insisted he go back, growing louder and louder with each step…

It was a long walk before Henry made out the shadowy outline of a vehicle crawling cautiously through the snow, its bright headlights parting the haze as he drew nearer. The engine rumbled quietly compared to the blustering wind that shoved Henry forward impatiently. He squinted against the bright lights, his teeth chattering as he hurried his steps.

The driver’s door popped open, a man swaddled in scarves and a jacket leaning out to carefully regard Henry. It didn’t take much for him to gesture the criminal over, tossing a deep violet scarf around his head and ushering him to climb into the bed of his small truck. The truck’s cabin only had enough room for one passenger, but there was enough space in the back for Henry to get comfortable, the overwhelming force of the wind being obstructed by the neatly cut logs stacked up beside him. 

The truck was turned around carefully, inching back the way it had come, the path it had excavated allowing a quicker ride. Several hours passed before the truck pulled into a small town, the comely buildings strung by frosted lights that illuminated the dark night. Henry lifted his chin from his knees to survey the atmosphere. It was quiet and blanketed with that welcoming feeling he hadn’t experienced in years, making him feel misplaced in such a nice and quaint and clean space.

He moved over to the side as the truck came to a stop alongside an abandoned sidewalk in front of a gleaming storefront. The driver left the cab of his truck and helped a shivering Henry down onto solid ground, steering him through the tinted doors of what looked to be a bar. 

The air was riddled with sweet and sour fumes—a bitter whiff of smoke mixed in—as the two made their way through empty tables toward the barstools slotted in front of a deep mahogany counter. Henry sat gratefully in a seat, working the cold from his body as the bartender was flagged down. 

Soon, he found himself downing a tall drink, the tang lingering in his mouth as warmth curled through him. His muscles loosened and relaxed as he practically melted onto the counter, tempted to the edge of sleep and ready to let the darkness wash over him had the driver not nudged him rudely in the side. Henry jumped up with his heart crawling its way to his throat. 

The driver stared peculiarly at him before tipping the bartender and standing from his stool. He gave a nod toward Henry before slowly shuffling out the door. Henry was left to stare at his empty cup, the edges frothed with white bubbles as the drink continued to work its way through him, chasing away each tension and concern. He sat there for a while, letting the concept of time slip beyond his understanding until he came to reality again. 

Henry knuckled his eyes, feeling the weight of exhaustion hit him again as he straightened up, cracking several joints with a series of crisp and loud pops that filled the quiet void. He had to start somewhere. He had to get his bearings. So, with his thoughts foggy but a clear motivation in mind, Henry left his seat and made his way toward the door.

The chill in the air made him shiver as he stepped out into the sleepy town. He tugged the scarf over his mouth, his teeth rattling his head. Through the quiet streets he trudged, his hands clasped tightly together in front of his chest, his steady breaths billowing past the thin material of the scarf in wispy furls. 

Henry wandered until the light of dawn. A break in the clouds let a feeble ray of orange kiss the peaks of the mountains softly, bathing the snow in a shimmering glow. It was a welcome change to the dreary night, and it refreshed Henry, filling him with a new sense of hope that everything would be alright.

In the morning light he neared the edge of the small town. A stretch of flat land, excavated of snow and ice, overlooked the steep backs of the mountain range, abruptly falling away to the dark sea. Henry eyed a humble building not far off, his feet carrying him toward it without a second thought, his instincts screaming at him.

It was his way off this mountain.

It would take him far from The Wall.

And he’d be a free man once more.

A chime rang out as Henry pushed the rusted door open, dust floating aimlessly about in the air before settling atop neglected shelves displaying old pamphlets. The whole interior looked worn and held the last distinguishing look of a souvenir shop. Behind the dusty registration counter a hunched little lady squinted at her crossword puzzle. Her oversized spectacles teetered on the edge of her nose, magnifying Henry’s hand that waved into view in front of her.

“O-oh!” She reeled back in surprise, plucking her glasses up to fix them properly and gave a warm smile once she settled. 

Henry gave the old woman a bashful smile before offering his passport, a worn old book with the cover a fading hue of pale blue. The woman picked it up carefully, as if it’d fall apart in her own equally frail hands, and thoroughly ran through the identification process. It didn’t take long, however, the woman finishing with a prompt close of the passport as she handed it back to Henry. 

She then directed him toward a door overshadowed by the hulking outline of a rack laden with traveling luxuries such as neck pillows and comfy blankets. Henry felt tempted to snag one on his way out, but found himself shoved back into the cold without a warning. The wind was tame in the early light of the morning, grazing gently along his skin as it flittered by. 

“Just that way, dearie,” the woman croaked, a crooked finger shaking in the direction of a lone hangar that rose against the curve of the mountain. “Have a safe trip.” Her smile was warm despite the chilling surroundings, and it gave Henry a sort of longing to stay, to feel comforted and safe.

But the old woman was already turning back toward her small shop, the door clicking shut behind her shattering the fragile peace within Henry. It brought him crashing into reality, setting his jaw straight and locked tight, his eyes settling forward and refusing to look back. Sentiments, wants, luxuries. They were for the faint-hearted, the ones who couldn’t endure the hardship of life, the ones too scared to stand up to the trials before them. 

Henry was not one of those quitters. 

He could live solely off of nothing, get his hands on anything, face down even death itself… after all, hadn’t he done that several times already?

With his head lifted in determination to follow through with his plan, Henry marched across the field until he was greeted by the gleaming metal of a small airplane, its pilot slouching off to the side, leaning on the rail of a set of short steps. He looked up from his phone as Henry approached, fixing the tattered hat on his head and assuming a straighter posture.

“Ah, hello,” he drawled in a deep grumble, eyeing the escaped convict curiously. He’s not had a passenger before who’s looked on the verge of death as Henry did, but he wasn’t one to judge. The mountains were a harsh cradle to those unaccustomed to the fiery spirit hidden under the misleading charms. 

“We’ll be up in the air shortly. Get yerself on in and hunker down. Ya look as if you’ve been dragged from the depths of the very underworld itself.”

To say Henry was relieved to be getting away from the mountain seemed too little a statement. As he claimed a lone row, stretching out on the padded seats, he sighed deeply. The dull pain in his bones throbbed like the distant rhythm of a thousand drums. He leaned his head against the cool glass of the window, his eyes drifting shut with the weight of his weariness. 

Henry was caught up in the unseen current of his mind, being swept deeper in the eerie black depths that expanded beyond his sight. The looming outline of the complex he’d fled from slipped into his view, haunting him with the blood and sweat and adrenaline that he had suffered through just to escape. He felt his heart jump up in alarm, making a frantic break for his throat. The panic felt real. The need to breathe was real. 

The threat of death was real. 

He shut his eyes tighter, ridding the image of the bleak building from his mind. The more he tried to forget it, however, the more he lingered on the thought of almost dying. Was risking his own life for the thrill of stealing, for the thrill of breaking some laws, even really worth it? Was nearly losing his life not enough to make him stop? 

The airplane shuddered slightly as the pilot clambered into the cockpit, his voice but an incessant buzz to Henry while he droned through the safety procedures. The ex-convict ignored it as he reflected back to before he’d been caught up behind bars again. It had been a much simpler time, with Henry leisurely strolling the streets while he scoped out potential opportunities to pickpocket. Nothing could go wrong. Nothing was better than…

Henry choked on the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, caught up in trying to escape the hold of the vivid imagery of his mind. He spluttered as he sat up, panting lightly as he came across the source of what plagued him. It was a playful laugh that rang through his head, chasing Henry’s heart that jumped and fluttered, glowing as it basked under the light of a sheepish smile. 

The plane bumped down the runway, throwing Henry back against the seats as it gained ground before leaving the snowy heights of the small town behind. He didn’t care that his head knocked against the window, bringing a fresh headache to his temples. It was nothing like the painful throb of his heart as he dared to remember a certain heist involving a certain pilot.

The arrest of the Toppat Clan’s leaders was the last thing Henry had heard of the criminal organization, and the first time he’d come across someone more… tempting than money. 

Charlie the government pilot… Why had he caught Henry’s eye when they first met? What was so special about him? 

Henry couldn’t place his finger on the reason, nor could he get his heart to calm down as he lingered on the thought of how Charlie’s eyes lit up when he smiled, or the cute indentations that framed his mouth from his dimples. 

And it was at that moment that he realized that, not only was he hopelessly in love, but that with being in love meant he couldn’t bear to die without seeing the pilot again. 

But what were the chances of him seeing Charlie again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha I’m so sorry for the wait, but here’s part 2! There’ll be 3 parts in all to this Bitter Storm section, and then I’m working on a project for Halloween! 
> 
> Thank you so much for sticking around this long. My updating skills aren’t the best and I don’t have good schedule ^^; so thank you for bearing with the slow updates.


	5. The Bitter Storm Pt. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie the government pilot… Why had he caught Henry’s eye when they first met? What was so special about him? 
> 
> Henry couldn’t place his finger on the reason, nor could he get his heart to calm down as he lingered on the thought of how Charlie’s eyes lit up when he smiled, or the cute indentations that framed his mouth from his dimples. 
> 
> And it was at that moment that he realized that, not only was he hopelessly in love, but that with being in love meant he couldn’t bear to die without seeing the pilot again. 
> 
> But what were the chances of him seeing Charlie again?

The warm air of the tavern heated Henry’s skin, light spilling on him and highlighting the pale flush dancing on his cheeks. A mug of tea sat untouched and cold in front of him. The tavern was familiar. It had the same people and the same faces each time Henry made his way to the counter for a hot drink to thaw his cold body. 

He’s been stuck at the base of a mountain for… well, Henry’s lost count of the days that had slipped by. It was an empty land of nothing but snow and treacherous drops hidden under sheets of ice that were delicately left undisturbed. The only hope of human contact was this simple tavern he often retired to at the close of each day. It wasn’t much, just a humble building grounded beside a narrow road that seemed to go on forever. 

After the flight from the upper village nestled on the mountain peak, Henry had felt a calm wash slowly over him, melting away into panic and uncertainty as he realized he had nowhere to go. Yes, he had escaped from the prison and they now assumed he was dead, but sitting around would do him no good. He had to get back home somehow… 

He stared absentmindedly at the mask lying beside his drink, faded and worn but still in one piece. The pilot had given it to him upon landing in a clearing nearby the tavern, parting from Henry with the words, 

“Aye. You won’t last a day with that pathetic scrap of cloth. ‘Ere, take this. It’s seen me through bad days.”

The pilot had handed the mask to Henry, stroking the thick grayed stubble on his chin. 

“Plus, no one will recognize ya… Yous have that look about ya like a scared piece of prey.” 

Henry couldn’t have felt more grateful for a simple gift such as that mask. It’s kept him from drawing curious eyes, which, at this point, he’s learned was important if he wanted to keep out of prison again. 

The murmur of the crappy tv mounted on the wall caught his attention, bringing him out of his thoughts. A snort from a passed out drunkard cut into the reporter’s words, but Henry didn’t need to hear the full thing to straighten up. 

“...the Romanian Ruby and the Tunisian Diamond.”

His heart raced with excitement. So the whereabouts of the precious gemstones were known. And if Henry could just get to them, then he’d be sitting pretty for the rest of his life. The more he watched, however, the more his smile fell. The reporter was looking into the camera as she continued, her flat voice achingly robotic, but that was the last of Henry’s concerns. 

“The orbital station allows the Toppat Clan to easily raid any place on Earth.”

An orbital station. A freaking orbital station. In freaking space. Henry could pull off feats that seemed, in the heat of a moment, impossible, or at the very least, fatal. But even he had limits to the things he could do, and getting into a station that was already circling the Earth? Even he had doubts. 

A long sigh escaped his chapped lips, the bittersweet smell of tea riding out on his breath as he inched his fingers for the handle of his mug. He pulled it closer, staring at the dark liquid that swirled against the stained white ceramic of its container. His sullen face stared back at him with tired eyes ringed by heavy bags. 

Has his life really stooped this low? Could he do no better than steal? The more he thought on what could’ve been, if he didn’t nurse such a greedy desire for more, the more he bit down on his tongue in frustration as he realized that he possibly missed his one chance at redemption. 

It all came back to Charlie. The moment was fuzzy, but Henry could remember that during the trip back to the government’s home base after the successful Toppat Clan heist, he and Charlie had shared some of their craziest adventures while laughing until it hurt too much to smile. 

What could’ve been if Henry had decided right then that he would work for the government, alongside the talented pilot? The answer was obvious, even to the dullest of minds--Henry wouldn’t be stuck sitting in a tavern in the middle of nowhere. But then he wouldn’t have the freedom to openly commit theft, and if he couldn’t do that, then was he really Henry Stickmin? 

He gently swayed his mug as he sifted through the mess of thoughts tangled in his head. Slowing down felt nice. Not dying felt nice. A little chuckle left him at the irony of his relief. The exhilaration of defying death and justice was one of the many reasons he had continued his life of crime, and now he was wishing for a simple solution to avoid ending his life prematurely. 

Henry took a big sip of the stale tea sitting in his cup. The bitter liquid did little to clear up his thoughts, but the resounding echo of several gunshots made his breath hitch in surprise. He abandoned his drink without a second thought, racing for the door with his heart jumping into his throat. Had the government found him? Or was it the Toppat Clan coming to exact revenge for taking part in landing their leader and right hand man in jail?

It was a white haze outside as Henry yanked open the door and squinted against the cold snowflakes peppering his warmed face. He couldn’t see much and he was already regretting being so paranoid, but as he was just about to turn he made out the looming shape of a massive boulder planted in the ground with a wrecked car at its feet. The ex-convict squinted harder, and he spotted the fuzzy outlines of three people scrambling to the back of their vehicle, the unmistakable shape of hats sitting proudly atop their heads. 

The Toppat Clan. 

So they were here, but why? 

One of the members clambered to the top of a safe that had fallen from the bed of the truck, firing off his gun at the assailant Henry couldn’t make out clearly, but they were closing in fast. He stayed under the cover of the tavern’s entrance, his brain uselessly empty, wandering back to the cozy, safe…

A beam of light descended on the Toppats with a sudden flood of light that shook Henry from his daydreams. They were lifted up, safe and all, into the sky and beyond the thick clouds that crowded out any feeling of hope. As the light faded, Henry cleared his eyes of snowflakes and felt his blood turn just as cold as the surrounding snow.

Charles had been hard on the Toppats’ heels, racing after their truck as fast as he could while aiming a shaky hand, hoping to get a mark on one of their tires to slow them down. Luckily, the storm was hard to see through and they had rammed head-on into a rock. Unluckily, they still got away.

A heavy sigh came from the pilot’s lips, his shoulders sagging as he realized that his job, as hard as it was already, just got harder. For starters, he didn’t even know where he was! Only that the Toppat Clan had been traced to this place and had to be stopped. 

He eventually straightened up and carefully tucked his gun away. The dark shape of the tavern caught his eye, and a strong desire to sit down and have a drink rushed into him. He was cold and tired and frankly, at a loss. Charles let his gaze fall to the entrance, lingering on the still being who returned his curious stare, until he narrowed his eyes a little more. 

“Henry?” Charles called out tentatively over the wind. 

He made his way over, a smile growing on his face as he confirmed his suspicions.

“Henry!”

The ex-convict let the pilot draw closer, each step that Charles took making his heart thud harder, faster, louder. A dryness overcame Henry’s mouth despite having nursed his drink for several hours, and he only managed a small wave as Charles was now within an arm’s length. 

“I heard you died!” 

It was a little surprise to hear, but a reminder nonetheless. Henry gave a slight shrug with a lopsided grin, feeling his cheeks warm with fondness and acceptance as he embraced the thought of being reunited with the pilot. 

“God, you look awful.” Charles brushed past him with his smile replaced with a concerned frown, a hand on the door as he looked over the tattered wardrobe of the ex-convict.

Henry still had the old set of clothes he had been wearing at the start of his brief imprisonment at The Wall, feeling a stubborn sort of attachment to them. They were near threads by now, held together by wraps of sloppy bandaging that was stained with dried blood and dirt. A few healed gashes lined his face at odd angles, faded red and darkening as they scabbed over.

He glanced over at his bandagings, wincing as they reminded him of the many ventures he risked to find a way back home, with little success and a growing collection of scars. But none of his failures or pain seemed to hurt anymore. All that mattered now was Charles, and hopefully an opportunity to start not only a new life as part of the government, but perhaps forge something more with the pilot. 

Charles sighed again as they settled down on barstools where Henry had been pondering earlier. He seemed grateful for the warm air that circulated about the small building, his posture sagging with more than just exhaustion. The tv earned a half-interested glance from him before losing to Henry who offered his cold cup of tea. The pilot took it with a quiet thanks, downing the little remains and shivering at the taste. 

There was a stretch of silence between them, comfortable and not needing any words until Charles finally took interest in the news.

“Ah, man…” he muttered, focused on the image of the orbital station. “The Toppat Clan has been causing a bunch of problems for me lately.” 

A note of annoyance crept into his voice, not unnoticed by Henry who also directed his attention to the television. He caught the gaze of the pilot who carried on, feeling an explanation was needed seeing as Henry had been off the grid for months, and by most, presumed dead. 

“Yeah, ever since they got that orbital station set up, they’ve been suuuper strong.” Charles emphasized the word ‘super,’ dragging it out with a pained look, still disappointed in his failure of not stopping the few Toppats that he had been chasing. 

Henry listened carefully, keen on catching the pilot’s quirks and the different twitches in his face as he talked. He caught the dark circles under his eyes, the distant look in his usually bright eyes, the deep lines in his brow as he fell into deep thought. The imperfections kept Henry busy as he traced them through a hooded gaze, his chin resting comfortably in the palm of his hand, a smile tempted to grace his lips.

The pilot settled for staring at the bottom of Henry’s mug, keeping his head down before he lifted it up to shoot Henry an excited grin.

“Now that I think about it… you and I made a pretty good team in the past!” 

Henry broke out into a grin. He didn’t want to mention that they had only worked once together, and that was during their first meeting, which had been months ago. He also didn’t want to mention that he had nearly died at the very beginning when he had dropped onto the top of the Toppat’s airship.

No… He’d mention none of that. 

The pilot seemed to be drawing hope from his own words, sitting up so Henry could see the determination light up his eyes. Then suddenly, they were much closer, a hand warming the skin of Henry’s shoulder as Charles clasped it in his excitement. 

“I bet we could take ‘em out.”

He leaned in even more, until Henry could feel each gentle brush of his hot breath caress his face. It was a hot mixture of the tea he just drank and laden with something sweet that the ex-convict couldn’t put a finger on. Either way, he felt near dizzy as he breathed in, finding it hard to focus on the words coming from the pilot’s mouth, but at the same time hanging onto every single one. 

“It’s starting to get personal. Well? Whaddaya say? You wanna help me take ‘em out for good?”

The pilot straightened up again, leaving that precious closeness without a second thought to the way Henry gazed wide-eyed at him. He returned the stare, waiting for an answer. 

It took a few seconds for Henry to regain his wits, and when he did, he struggled to remember what Charles had asked him about. The sweet smell he’d inhaled fogged his mind, and he gave a thumbs-up of approval out of panic as he saw the pilot begin to frown in concern. 

The smile returned quickly, though, and Charles pushed back his stool eagerly, heading for the door before Henry could process just what he agreed to do.

“Awesome!” Charles said as Henry followed up closely. “Alright, follow me. I have a way we can get into space.”

What followed was a long trek through a white blizzard. Charles led the way as they trudged through knee-high snow, standing up to the blistering wind that bit their exposed faces and tried to wriggle its way under their thin wrappings that whipped about them. Time was nonexistent, and the end was out of sight. Thankfully, by the time Henry thought his legs would buckle under the strain, the outline of a helicopter cut through the curtain of snow. 

He didn’t think he’d ever see the aircraft again, then again he didn’t think he’d see its pilot again either. It was a welcome sight, though, and Henry breathed a sigh of relief as Charles rolled open the door to clamber in. The cabin hadn’t changed since the first he had been aboard. The same few storage boxes were secured to the wall, and perhaps a handful of new devices and weapons were the only real additions. 

Henry made a scurry immediately for the cockpit, collapsing into a seat as Charles took up the pilot’s chair, both letting out a heavy sigh as they sank into the padding. A few switches were flicked and soon the helicopter whirred to life, its propellers humming loudly as they gained speed then lifted the aircraft up and out of the blizzard. 

For a few moments they were rocked and bumped as they rose through the thick clouds bunched over the mountains. Henry watched it all fade gradually below them. The snow, the white capped peaks, the meek glow of the distant tavern nestled in the heart of a cold landscape, it all was washed out of sight as they rose higher and higher. Henry pressed close to the window, fogging it up with his breath, letting the turbulence that knocked the aircraft about rock him to sleep.

.  
.  
.

“Henry… Henry, wake up!”

A hand shook his shoulder roughly, to which Henry batted away. He curled up tighter in his seat, tucking his head close to his knees, the gleam of cash and gemstones dancing in the dark of his vision. 

“Henry!” 

The voice grew more urgent, an edge of annoyance just barely detectable. A shove to the arm was only repelled again with a quick swat from the dozing ex-convict. All the money was his, and his only. No one else could have it. He’s sacrificed too much to put up with thieving again just to scrape by another day. He didn’t want to risk losing his life again… 

“Henry!” Charles yelled at the top of his lungs. The pilot stared down at him and sighed, watching as the small smile on Henry’s face occasionally twitch, or listen as he gave a few chuckles here and there. In truth, it was hard to see the man before him as a criminal. He looked too awkward with his tall height and gangly limbs, but Charles couldn’t deny that he had that charisma and natural swagger that made him just… likable.

The longer he watched Henry the more the pilot thought of his first meeting with him. How he’d tried acting indifferent and serious to impress the captain, only to slowly give in to the thrill of working with the criminal. Charles had heard of Henry Stickmin multiple times, most of which had been from Galeforce who went over the lengthy record of all his past crimes often. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been impressed by all the acts Henry had committed, even if all of them had been against the law.

And now, Charles got to see the other side of the criminal’s calm and crafty exterior. He looked so at peace while he slept. His face, while temporarily scarred by injuries, rested in a blissful state of unawareness. There was no sign of stress or worry making his brow furrow in concentration, which added a sort of older look to Henry that the pilot thought looked better on Galeforce. But right now, he just looked so c—

Henry woke up with a start once his dream of swimming through piles of cash abruptly shattered. He looked around groggily, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. Every part of his body seemed to have a protest to everything he did as he stretched out his legs and raised his arms over his head. He caught the flash of Charles’s headphones in the corner of his eye, and he angled his body toward the pilot.

Charles had retreated to his seat once the other started to move, surprised not only by the sudden activity but by the turn his thoughts had taken when he had been overlooking Henry’s sleeping form. He was well aware this was their second meeting, but with the challenges they had faced, the pilot couldn’t help but feel as if he’d known Henry for years. The criminal was easy to talk to, and for Charles, he really appreciated being heard rather than being brushed off to the side with a reprimand that he needed to work. 

Henry, meanwhile, worked out the aches in his body and finally decided to peer out the window. A canvas of black rolled out endlessly before him, littered with stars that seemed too bright considering they were still on…   
“Charlie!” Henry rasped suddenly, clearing his throat before calling out the pilot’s name again, a slight tremor in his quiet voice from the effort of keeping his composure. 

At the outburst, Charles flashed a sheepish smile with a hand rising to touch the soft head of his mic, adjusting it even though he wasn’t currently using it. 

“Uh, heh, you’re awake!” he chuckled a little, a crease in his brow as he tried to ease the panicked criminal. He avoided the intense stare from Henry, preferring to gaze out at the distant surface of Earth. 

They were flying by swiftly in a spaceship, powered by the single engine that spewed a fiery trail of blue. Charles kept his eyes focused on the front of the ship, knowing he’d have to explain sooner or later.

“Secret government prototype,” he finally said into the thick silence, gesturing to the control panel before him. “Whaddaya think?” He hoped it’d lift the accusing glare off of him, and to his relief, Henry seemed to give up on trying to stare him to death to properly take in the cozy space of the ship. 

It was a bare dome of tinted glass, with a low ceiling barely leaving any headroom for the two small seats fitted inside. Henry was given a full 360 view of the expanse of space as they drew closer to the Toppat’s orbital station peeking around the curve of their home planet. He didn’t answer Charles, preferring to eye him carefully as the backdrop of stars gave a surreal lighting. 

They kept this silence, accompanied by the occasional chime of the control panel, the hum of the engine, and the overbearing weight of awkwardness. Charles kept his eyes trained on the nearing orbital station, maneuvering the spaceship as close as he dared.

“There it is,” he announced once they settled far enough away. “Alright, how do you want me to bring you in?”

Henry sat up straighter in his seat at the sight of the station. He felt anticipation make his heart thump in excitement. The station was floating serenely through the void of space, white and pristine and classy just like its inhabitants onboard. To think months ago they had just been cruising on an obnoxiously bright airship, and now they were far from anyone’s reach, free to do whatever they wanted. Charles caught his eye, and the two shared a confident grin.

“Aww, this is so exciting! It’s just like last time!” the pilot said with a small laugh. 

The tension had melted away. All that was left was the satisfying thought of bringing down a criminal organization for good. Henry already pictured himself successfully infiltrating the station, just like he had infiltrated the airship, and emerged victorious. He and Charles would safely return to earth, and then, with Charles, he’d serve the government and forget his past life of thieving. The thought made him smile even more.

“Put on this space suit.”

Henry opened his eyes to a one-piece being shoved into his face. He pushed it away to stare pointedly at Charles, who only shoved it back once more.

“Put on this space suit and—” Charles hit a button on the panel. A small chute opened up on one of the walls, just big enough for maybe a full-grown man to shimmy down. The pilot looked dead serious.

“Put on this space suit and hide in this ball of trash.”

Henry gingerly took the suit from him with a questioning glance as he began to slip it on.

“What? It’s a good idea, trust me,” Charles replied, his arms crossed defensively in front of his chest, but beaming proudly at his ingenious thought. 

Once the suit was on, Henry dived headfirst into the trash chute, pushing himself along with his feet until he plunged into the heart of a dense mass of trash. The waste pressed against him, as if welcoming him while the ball was aimed for the orbital station. Henry had just enough time to break his head through the outer shell of the ball before he was pushed off. 

He watched the ship shrink as he drifted away, until the mass broke apart as it collided into the station’s side. For a few moments, he was weightless and floating helplessly, bits of garbage getting lost in the void. Henry reached out for a small ventilation shaft, latching onto the narrow grooves for dear life. 

Charles tapped into his communication feed built into his suit, sounding rather smug.

“See? I told you it’s a good idea. The Toppats have no clue you’re there now.” 

Henry felt his eyes roll before he could suppress the urge, unable to stop the fond smile on his face either. He searched the bare surface of the side he was clinging to, but there was no apparent opening, and the grate was firmly screwed shut. 

Charles came over the comm to inform him that he would stick behind. Something about not getting detected. The criminal gave an affirmative grunt to let him know that he understood, his mind elsewhere and focused on figuring out a way of forcibly prying the vent open. 

“I should still be able to help you get inside from here, though,” Charles gently reminded him after a few moments of nothing from Henry. Again, he gave an acknowledgment and fell back into silence. 

After a few minutes, Henry felt his patience dwindling as the vent still stood stubbornly in his way. He sighed heavily, fogging up the glass of his helmet. Right on cue, Charles chimed in.

“Hey, you feel that button there on your helmet? Go ahead and press that,” he said. 

In all honesty, the criminal’s pride welled up and he refused to do so. He could get in just fine. He just needed a few more minutes. But even a small part of him admitted defeat, and if it weren’t for Charles, he’d probably be still on solid ground drinking his days away while moping about his problem of not getting home. So, with a pause of hesitation, Henry felt along the smooth surface of his helmet until his finger found a small groove where the button was placed.

He promptly pushed it, feeling a wave of heat roll over him briefly. A flash of bright light caught his eye, and Henry watched helplessly as a blade of fiery orange floated out of his reach. 

“It’s a knife that’s so hot it can cut through any material,” Charles was explaining as the criminal tracked the blade until it ventured too far out of his sight. There was a long drawn out moment of silence, and Charles had a sneaking suspicion something wrong had happened.

“You dropped it, didn’t you?” he sighed. 

Henry began giving a nervous laugh, about to apologize when he was cut off.

“Y’know what? Naw. This calls for some bold action.”

It quickly made him clamp his mouth shut, afraid of the sudden giddiness that had entered the pilot’s tone. He’d only heard it once before, back on the airship, but Henry had pleaded to him to be subtle about his methods of helping. Now, he was sure there was no stopping the pilot.

Charles came honing in with a fanfare on the tip of his tongue, singing loudly into Henry’s ear as the shadow of his spaceship fell upon the side the criminal was clinging to. It got bigger and bigger, the roar of the engine making a chaotic symphony, and there was nothing he could do. 

There was smoke and flashing lights. An announcement came overhead, urging everyone to evacuate. Henry lay dazed on the ground with a familiar headache pounding in his skull, his lungs feeling punched and deflated from the crash. His helmet lay broken before him; it had saved him from an otherwise inevitable death. 

Just behind him there was a sickening thud of something heavy colliding with metal. A feeble cough told Henry it was Charles, and he looked back to meet a weak smile on the pilot’s face. 

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” Charles chuckled. 

Both of them were disheveled and covered in smoke and cuts. Charles’s headphones suffered the loss of a chunk on one of the earmuffs and looked about ready to snap in half. Henry came off a bit better thanks to the spacesuit, but he could feel some of his old wounds ache. 

He pulled off the suit and made his way over to Charles, finally taking notice of the large core that stood behind them, the spaceship lodged deep inside while a gaping hole in the outer wall offered a view of the stars. Charles was faster to notice, and to realize what was happening.

“Anyways, should probably find a way off this station before it explodes,” he said and turned on his heel to start sprinting toward an open door. 

Henry followed him without a word, struggling to breathe as he inhaled the fumes of the leaking core. Once they made it out of the engine room, he breathed deeply, tired of the smoky smell plaguing him. Charles was already at the second door, inspecting a touchpad. It buzzed angrily at him as he tried to guess the code, turning to the other with a slight frown.

“Looks like the door’s jammed. This is the only way through,” he explained, looking more and more tired and defeated. 

He went back to carefully looking at the device before turning around again. “I think I can hack this panel to get the door open.”

Henry stood off to the side, recovering as he hoped that whatever plan Charles had would work. There were several loud beeps from the touchpad, the screen flashing red all the while. It wasn’t long until the pilot turned around once more. 

“Yeah… I have no idea what I’m doing,” he said with a slight shrug, looking apologetic. At this point, however, Henry’s patience was near gone and he glared at the other. 

Charles seemed to get the hint, and decided leaving the touchpad alone for the time being was a good place to ease the criminal’s annoyance. He paced the small section of corridor they were trapped in. A hand brushed along the wall, feeling for any oddities, but it was near his legs that he caught the gentle blow of air filtering through a duct. He leaned down and dug his nails under the covering, opening it up with a triumphant smile.

“I bet this vent leads somewhere on the other side!” he said, motioning to Henry to look at his find.

The both of them squeezed in and began a careful crawl through the dark, shudders and loud noises echoing around them. Henry flashed back to when he had crawled through the electrified vent in the airship, and prayed that they weren’t heading to their dooms. It didn’t help that Charles began to sing, his voice quiet and sounding somewhat eerie. He didn’t sing much, though, as a particularly loud explosion sounded not too far off.

“Oh boy…” Charles muttered, hastening his pace, “we’re running out of time.” 

They came to the end of the vent soon after, a stampede of footsteps passing by before Charles deemed it clear and dared to slip out. Toppats lay face down on the floor, pinned by falling rubble or knocked cold by other members in a panic to escape. The pair followed the fleeing Toppats to a port of escape pods, several stragglers frantically claiming one for themselves. 

The last pod they opted out as they had glimpsed a Toppat dive into it, leaving the luxury pod and a pod with the hatch already cracked. Charles and Henry shared a look, some part of them not needing words to understand the next move, and together they rushed for the second pod. 

Henry pressed the button for the hatch to open, frowning as it only remained shut. He pressed it again.

Bzzt.

Press.

Bzzt.

Press.

Bzzt.

He grit his teeth, past his limit for patience, and swung at the button with his fist. That time the door flew open with a hiss, and he smiled tiredly. Finally.

Charles sat down and sighed, looking just as relieved as Henry. “Well, that was intense,” he said and managed to find an ounce of energy left to sound somewhat enthusiastic. 

“Can’t wait to go ho-”

The door of the pod swooshed open again, a Toppat glaring at the intruders before grabbing Henry and throwing him out, eager to leave them behind in the upcoming explosion. But Charles was just as determined, and he came racing out to tackle the Toppat, tossing Henry back in as he stumbled alongside him. Charles was tackled in return, but he managed to slip away and dive into the pod as the door swiftly fell shut. 

All the pods were ejected from the station. Henry climbed to his feet to peer out the window, his heart throbbing in his throat. He already felt the prickle of tears in the corners of his eyes, watching the station intently, then inhaled shakily as it erupted into a burning blaze. 

He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. He wanted to claw at his throat to make some sort of noise but nothing ever came out. The tears dribbled down his face and left hot streaks. Henry couldn’t see anything but a watery, blurry end to what could’ve been.

“Henry… Why are you crying? We’re going home.”

The voice was quiet, hoarse, however, Henry immediately wheeled around to burst out fully into a wail. It was a shocking noise, but Charles merely chuckled and leaned back heavily in a chair. His headset had fallen to rest around his neck, a bruise forming a lovely patch on his face. 

But he was alive.

Alive and still here.

Henry sank to the floor in utter relief and surprise, muffling his sobs with the back of his hand as he gazed at the pilot who looked back at him, as if he were the only one in the universe, as if nothing else mattered. They could go home, fight crime, maybe fall in love… 

“Y'know… I’ve been thinking…” Charles began slowly, coughing as he worked out the smoke in his lungs, wheezing from the effort.

“We’re an unstoppable team. There’s nothing that can stand in our way. Can you imagine how powerful we’d be if we joined the Toppat Clan?”

Charles leaned toward Henry.

“We’ll be rich. The government wouldn’t be able to touch us, not with your skills and my eye for aircraft.”

He leaned in even closer. 

“Whaddaya say? Isn’t this the greatest plan?”

Henry could feel his breath. He could smell the smoke tickle his nose. Charles was smirking at him, his eyes darkening with a mischievous gleam.

“Say it, Henry,” he chuckled, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. “I know you can’t refuse…”

The criminal shrunk back, furrowing his brow in confusion. “This isn’t funny,” he rasped in a trembling voice. 

Charles flashed a toothy smile. “Oh? What’s not funny?”

“This! Stop messing around…”

Oh, Henry. If only you knew… I have you wrapped around my finger. 

Go on. 

Say it. 

The pilot smiled innocently at him. 

Say you love me. 

Damn His Smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shitty ending? Check.  
> Chapter done? Check ^0^ 
> 
> OMFG this is so long hhhh. I’m so sorry for the wait! And I also do apologize for any mistakes, spelling errors, grammatical errors, etc etc. I didn’t proofread and I wanted to get this out as soon as I finished so I can start on the next part! However, whether that will be another chapter or a completely new series I don’t know yet. For now, imma just work on the next part and see where it goes.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed and thanks for sticking around this long if you managed to get this far!


	6. Author’s Note

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m going over the thought process I have while writing and explaining Pt. 3 more in-depth. I hope it helps. If I missed anything, feel free to leave a comment and I’ll explain the best I can to whatever you may have questions about. :)

Hello! Stormy here.

I just want to first and foremost apologize. The recent chapter, The Bitter Storm Pt. 3, left a lot of questions, confusion, and overall was not the best writing I could’ve done. And I confess, it was rushed and not thoroughly thought through. So, I am writing this break in the story to hopefully shed some light on the misunderstood parts that some of you readers may have had trouble with, specifically the ending in The Bitter Storm Pt. 3.

!! Please do not read this until you have finished the previous chapter as this will have spoilers. If you do not mind, then by all means, proceed !!

Most of the confusion I have seen is over Charles’ dialogue at the ending of Pt. 3. During this part, after the fight between Charles and the Toppat member and him managing to slip unnoticed back into the escape pod, Henry is experiencing an episode of grief and shock, much like in the canon ending of Valiant Hero. Obviously, the major difference here is that Charles manages to board the pod again before it is ejected seconds before the orbital station explodes. 

It takes Henry a few minutes to realize, thanks to Charles speaking up, that the pilot did not die. And it goes on with Henry being relieved and starting to “fantasize,” for lack of a better word, of what can happen now that the Toppat Clan is more or less defeated. The few remaining members would either go into hiding or be arrested once their escape pods land on earth. 

However, at this point, as they are safely enroute to earth, Charles shows a darker side to him. Namely, the desire for wealth and the possibility of even joining the Toppat Clan; the things Henry had contemplated giving up in favor of romantically pursuing Charles. 

This change I did not think about, and didn’t register at the time to include as I was already trying to hurry in finishing up the chapter. Before any of the original writing took place for this entire story as a whole, I did think about writing from the point of view of Charles. However, I felt like if I did that then writing his development and personal beliefs would be tedious to write and overall not as fun for me and not as interesting to those who would have read it. That is why I chose to then write from Henry’s perspective as you see in the game. 

And because I was trying to merge the canon options and endings along with my own changes, I tried to keep strictly with the script of the game, which is obviously my biggest flaw as it prevented me from fully explaining the sudden change in Charles and the reasoning behind Henry wanting to join the government other than that he was attracted to the former. 

So, what is the reason for Charles’ sudden turn? Again, I would like to point out that I had originally thought of writing from his perspective at first, then turned it down. But in this “rough draft” of the story, before Charles met Henry, he was reflecting on his career as a pilot and what sort of difference he was making. The more he thought of how he was mostly relied on as transport and a scout, the more he started to regret enlisting in the military. And this regret and frustration built into a sort of resentment toward the military, but he couldn’t do anything about it because he was monitored closely by General Galeforce.

Charles wanted to be in the frontlines, and he got his chance when Henry was brought in to infiltrate the Toppat airship. He felt truly useful for once. But that’s not the only thing he got out of the heist. While Galeforce had been listing Henry’s crimes before the big decision of getting aboard the airship, Charles overheard all the things Henry had done, and realized he wanted that freedom. 

But how to get that freedom? That was the question. And Charles found his answer soon after when he gave Henry the earpiece. Henry’s immediate liking toward him was apparent, and something that he’d keep in mind for later on. As you may have guessed, he used the fact that Henry loved him to his advantage in Pt. 3.

Why did he want freedom and why was Henry important in getting that goal?

Charles wanted freedom because he felt that being a pilot wasn’t as fulfilling or beneficial as he thought it’d be. But he was trapped by his own talent and ability, and therefore remained enlisted. Henry is a criminal who is not weighted down by the need of others; his only need is his own. Charles figured with his willing assistance (because of his attraction toward him), he could leave the military and obtain wealth from the items that Henry steals. Or, they could join the Toppat Clan in order to ensure protection from the government while obtaining wealth, in a similar manner to the ending of Toppat Recruits. 

I hope that clears up why Charles suddenly had offered to join the Toppat Clan. Also, as to why he kept telling Henry to admit aloud that he loved him—that was to make Henry realize how blinded by love he had been to actually miss the signs of his gradual corruption (It was a big mistake on my end as it would’ve made more sense had I properly taken the time to write out and hint at the change in Charles; and it was out of place to begin with as I did no character development).

Overall, the fault is in my writing, and once more, I sincerely apologize. I am still an amateur writer, so the wording in my stories will not be perfect. And that is where I encourage all the readers who have made it this far to point out my mistakes so that I may clear it up, so that I will learn and grow and hopefully make even better stories to come. 

Regarding the previous chapter, I am going to keep it up for now until I have properly revised it. In doing so, there may be pts. 4 and 5 that I may need to add so as to not make one chapter lengthy once I am done. I am not going to rush the chapter as I first did, and I ask my dear readers to bear with me as I do so. I do not know how long it’ll take for me to fix the errors I made as I do not have a schedule I go by to publish my chapters. 

As a parting message, I just want to thank the lovely @Sasha Sotikova and @Young_Slesher for reaching out and explaining where the story did not make sense. 

Please continue on expressing your thoughts, opinions, and suggestions as I am very open to hearing what you guys have in mind. Don’t be afraid to leave a comment and offer helpful criticism, either! :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I left a little note previously that I have a project for Halloween! Unfortunately, due to scheduling, stress, and several new huge tasks I need to do, I won’t be able to publish it on time. So, hopefully once I get everything cleared up, I’ll be able to put out a new story sometime December-??? if any of you show interest and stick around. :) 
> 
> Thank you for the support, patience, and kindness. It makes my day seeing someone’s comment saying they absolutely love my story. It motivates me to keep going. 
> 
> I love you all! Have a good day/night.


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